


Of Iron and Hawthorn

by flightinflame



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, First Meetings, M/M, Seelie Court, Trapped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-18 04:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21721432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: Scott's woken up in bad situations before. But this is the weirdest. He is in a cave, bound by rope, and he isn't alone.
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Scott Summers
Comments: 24
Kudos: 44
Collections: Secret Mutant Madness 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [feriswheel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feriswheel/pseuds/feriswheel) in the [secret_mutant_madness_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/secret_mutant_madness_2019) collection. 



> Lore info from here: https://faeriepedia.weebly.com/a-hitchhikers-guide-to-faerie.htm
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> AU in which the Summers family has a bit (or a lot) of Seelie blood in them (hence their last name, Summers) and Scott gets kidnapped by the Unseelie Court, leading him to uncover a plot in which the fae have been using mutants as pawns since they first appeared on the map. While there, he meets a mutant who, you guessed it, has claws. Except, instead of adamantium, Logan has some sort of fae substitute.

Scott’s head hurt, and he was lying on the ground. He could hear the distant echo of footsteps. He groaned softly, trying to bite down the noise, panting slightly at the pain of the movement. Silently, he started to catalogue his injuries, starting with the bruising to his ribs, and the weakness he could feel in one ankle, and going on to the headache, the bruises, the finger that was definitely broken. His wrists were bound together. He twisted slightly, pressing his face against the ground in the guise of adjusting his position in sleep, and was relieved to discover his visor was still in place. He couldn’t remember where he was, or who he was with, but the fact he’d been left with his visor was a comfort more than he could express. A slight shrug of his shoulders confirmed that he hadn’t been fitted with a power suppressor, and that the material he was dressed in appeared to be his usual uniform.

Scott had woken up in worse situations. Which honestly didn’t say much, but it was something. That was, unfortunately, part of what it meant to be the leader of the X-men. He rolled over slightly again, so that his face was tilted towards the room at large. He kept his eyes closed for another few moments, trying to listen, to hear what was happening, and then he opened his eyes, trusting that they would be hidden behind his visor.

He was trapped in what looked like a cave, crystals sparkling along the walls, and the entrance was covered - not with bars, but with entwined branches.

Scott groaned, considering just going back to sleep. This wasn’t the weirdest wake up he’d ever had, but it was strange. He frowned, trying to remember. He could recall getting into bed… and then nothing. No idea of what mission had gone wrong. He knew they’d been preparing to investigate an issue with the Brotherhood, but this wasn’t their style. Not enough metal for a start. And no monologues.

He lifted his head slightly, and heard a faint growl from by his feet. 

The presence of someone else in the room made him feel vulnerable, especially with his hands behind him so he couldn’t activate his visor. He scrambled up, so that his back was against the wall, and stared at the other man. He was short, and broad, with dark hair. He was shirtless, and wearing dark pants. There was no sign of a mutation, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a mutant.

The man drew back his lips and snarled slightly, and Scott tried to look unthreatening. If he’d had his hands, he would have held them up. As it was, he bowed his head slightly, hoping he looked suitably non-threatening.

For a moment, he thought he was successful. The man approached, sniffing at him curiously, and his heart was racing.  
“Hello?” Scott tried, falling back on his training. “My name’s Scott, what’s your name?” Humanise yourself, that was important. People found it harder to hurt someone with a name.

The man drew back, and then held up a hand, and claws emerged from between his knuckles. Okay, so talking maybe wasn’t the best plan. The man waved his claws, and they glistened in the half-light of the cave, like the crystals that surrounded it. That answered whether or not the man was a mutant. He took a step forwards, grabbing Scott’s shoulder, and Scott was very aware of how sharp that blade was, and how defenceless he was as he was pulled forwards.

He felt the tip of a blade against his back, and bit his lip, holding his breath, only to release it a moment later as the cord binding his wrists was sliced apart. He automatically brought his hands up to his face, resting them against the visor, needing to know he wasn't defenceless. But the other figure moved away again, shooting him a cold glare.

Scott glanced down at the sliced rope at his feet, and then back at the man before him, and nodded slowly.  
"Thank you."

"You shouldn't say that here." The man told him, his claws sliding away, the words little more than a growl.

"Where...where is here?"

"I thought you'd know that, summer boy..." The man shrugged, and Scott stared at him, unnerved by the idea that this man knew more about him than he knew about this stranger. But he knew the other man was a mutant, and that was a start.

"Do you have a name?" Scott asked, and the man laughed, and nodded.

"I do." He paused. "But not one I am willing to share with you, summer boy."

Scott shrugged slightly, moving back towards the security of his corner, wondering if the other mutant was his captor or a prisoner. He frowned, seeing a bowl of food by the branches, licking his lips hungrily as he began to realise just how empty his stomach was. 

"Don't." The man seemed to realise his plan, reaching out to put his hand on Scott's arm and stop him. "Not if you want to get back to your friends."

"I don't... I don't understand..." Scott murmured, staring at the hand around his arm - not gripping tightly, but stopping him from leaving. 

"You don't, do you. Haven't your parents-"

"My brother and I are orphans." Scott told him, frowning, and he saw the confusion and emotion flitting across the other man's face. After a moment he nodded, walking over to the food and picking it up, frowning at it, carrying it over and holding it towards Scott.

"You said about seeing my friends?" Scott pointed out, not willing to risk that. The man nodded slowly.  
"I did."

"Is it poison?" Scott asked, and the man shook his head.

"Not poison. Only if you allow their gifts to cross your lips... you will not return home."

"Their... who is their?"

The man snorted, and sighed.  
"You'll work it out. Look. My name is Logan. And I promise you, I will find a way to get you home."

It wasn't a reunion yet. 

Scott couldn't even be sure he was safe, or that the food wasn't poisoned. There was something off about the entire situation.

"You can eat."

"You just said if I ate it I couldn't return home." Scott protested, and Logan smirked.  
"If you eat it as their gift, you don't return home. But that's not what you're doing. You are eating this as a gift given by me."

Scott was hungry, and didn't want to provoke a fight with the other man. Not while he was still dizzy, and Logan had information he lacked. 

"You're not at home. Things work differently here." Logan told him. "You can eat that."

"So if I can't say thank you, what can I say?"

"Just don't say thank you, or sorry." Logan told him. "You eat if I give you the food. No one else, its not... it's not safe." Logan insisted, and Scott wanted to protest, but he was aware of the knives that lurked beneath the other man's skin.

There was something that flickered at the edge of his mind. Something about what his mother had said, when he'd been a child. He couldn't really remember it all, but... there was something.

"I have some iron in my visor." Scott murmured, and the nod Logan gave him in return suggested his suspicions were correct. He wished he could remember the old stories. But at least he had an idea of what was going on. That the fairy stories he heard as a child were going to keep him alive. He looked at the other mutant. "I ...appreciate your help."

Logan nodded.  
"I'm going to do what I can to get you home," he promised. "You have my word."

Scott at least remembered enough from childhood to know that meant something. He smiled at the other man. The two of them shared the food, before Logan got to his feet.

"I'll go and see what's going on." He approached the door, and the vines parted. Scott watched him go, realising his assumption the other man was a prisoner was probably misguided. He just had to hope that he hadn't made a mistake by eating it. And that he'd get home soon.

Time would work differently here. He could only hope he'd get home to find he'd been gone only a few moments, rather than years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided enough people were interested in this to carry on with it, although I've not got a fixed update schedule - I have a few chapters planned out! Thank you to Menel for the helpful push, and Lavenderlotion, TnC and Lynds for their support

There was a long wait before his captor or ally returned. Scott didn't let himself waste the time that he had, using it to measure out the size of the cave he was held in. Which was when he encountered a problem that he never could have predicted, and which annoyed him more than it had any right to. 

At his first attempt, standing and pacing the length of the cave, it took him fifteen paces. He turned, repeated the walk, and found that it was twenty two. Another turn, and it was eight. For a man who understood things through physics, this was giving him a headache.

After a fourth attempt (eleven steps), a fifth (five steps), and a sixth (fifty two steps), even Scott had to admit that this wasn't really working out for him. 

He sunk to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around himself. Logically, doing this would make him look like he had given up, as though he was hopeless. It was only then that he noticed a surprising lack of pain in his hand. He still had a headache, and his injured ankle wasn't supporting him as well as he would have liked, but he was certainly nowhere near as hurt as he'd been when he'd first woken up. It was one of those things that he should probably have just gone with, but his logical mind couldn't accept this. The lack of pain joined the strange crystal claws of his captor, Logan, and the changing size of his prison, as things that simply did not make any sense.

Scott was a mutant. He was used to dealing with things that most people would consider impossible. But he was used to things working within a certain set boundary of logic and science. It might not be science other people understood, but it was science that worked for him. Scott's entire battle strategy was based on being able to utilise his strange mutation, and physics, and use it successfully to destroy potential enemies. That didn't work so well if he couldn't even trust things to stay where they had been.

He groaned, rubbing at his forehead. His eyes were hurting, pressure building up behind his visor, but he didn't feel that unleashing them here would be a good sign. He'd been left with his visor, and with his hands free. He was trapped by the crystals at the entrance to the cave, but he wasn't injured that badly, and he wasn't helpless. Mapping out the cave wouldn't work, but that didn't mean he was useless.

He closed his eyes, wishing he was a telepath, and then tried to think loudly the way Xavier had taught him. _I don't know if you can hear this, but something's gone...very strange. I don't know where I am. I'm going to find a way to get home, but ... I'd appreciate it if you let me know you could hear this._ He fell silent, concentrating on keeping his mind calm, and empty, awaiting a reply. After several deep breaths, he repeated the message, this time sticking to the normal phrasing. _Professor, I appear to have been captured. I don't know my current location, although I appear to be in a cave of some sort. I am uninjured, alone, and have my visor. I cannot remember how I got here. Over._

In the silence that followed, Scott couldn't help considering quite how pathetic that mission report had been. No real information, just a child asking to be collected. He wanted to work this out. He'd been in bed, he could remember that. He'd been complaining at Warren for not picking up after himself in the showers, and Warren had been angry because he always was grumpy when he was moulting, and then both of them had been annoyed when Hank had quite reasonably made a comment about Warren experiencing hormonal changes whilst he was moulting. Then Storm had got annoyed with Hank for suggesting that she should sympathise with hormonal cycles and their impact on mood. Jean had glared, and stalked off to clear out the showers, making the entire thing smell of scorched feathers. They'd all headed off to bed in a bad mood - and that was a mistake, Scott knew that. He should have calmed them down, reminded them they were a team. But he'd been tired and aching after the Danger Room session earlier, and something had been prickling at his mind all day, and he'd just been tired.

He could never afford to be tired. When he got home (he had to believe it would be when), he would apologise to Warren, and thank Hank for being the voice of reason, tell Jean her clearing up was hugely appreciated, and talk to Hank about sensitivity around Storm. Having a plan, even a plan not immediately relevant, helped him to feel a little calmer, and he continued to look around the room, hoping to hear the professor's voice in his head, and knowing it wasn't likely.

He didn't want to acknowledge where he was, but he knew it enough to know saying his name when they first met had been a mistake. He tried to think of what else he knew. The man he had woken up with was a mutant, with crystal claws, who was called Logan. He wasn't allowed to eat food unless Logan handed to him, he shouldn't use names. He shouldn't say thank you or sorry. A list of confusing, nonsensical rules that might just keep him alive. And he could remember a family that had loved him once, and had told him stories. 

He heard footsteps approaching, and braced himself for the worst.

The bars of crystal which blocked the entrance to the cave parted, and Logan stepped through, before they sealed themselves up again behind him. He took a couple of slow, deep breaths, pretending everything was fine, and looking over Logan, glad that the visor kept his eyes from being seen. 

Logan looked much the same as earlier, although he now was holding a glass of water. Looking at it, Scott was suddenly aware his mouth was dry. The other mutant stepped closer, and Scott found himself looking at his eyes, trying to work out what colour they were. 

“I brought you water.”

“I thought taking things from you was dangerous?”

“You already took food.” Logan held out the water glass. “You’re thirsty. Drink.”

Scott resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the other man’s rudeness, because he was correct that Scott was thirsty, and whatever kind of deal with the devil he made by drinking - he’d already done that. He took the cup that was held out, bringing it to his lips.  
“Tha-I appreciate that.”

Logan nodded, seeming to understand that he was learning, and to be pleased about that. Scott drained the glass, putting it down, and resting his hand on the visor.

Scott looked Logan in the eye, knowing that he couldn’t tell he was having his gaze met, but hoping he might be able to feel it.  
“You’re a mutant?”

Logan nodded, and unsheathed those strange claws. They looked like they were a pale colour - silver perhaps, or white, or pink. He’d have to ask Jean when he got back, once he’d made up with her over the foolish argument. 

“And you. The visor-”

“They left it on. And you didn’t remove it.” Scott frowned. “Are you one of them, is that the problem?”

“Not the problem, Slim,” Logan answered, reaching out and running a finger against the visor. Scott jerked back slightly, his heart hammering in his chest.

Logan sniffed the air, and smirked, a knowing look in his eyes. Scott groaned and turned away from him, busily thinking about tactics. Logan seemed in no rush to break the silence between them.

“You know, this room changes size,” Scott pointed out, feeling stupid for saying it, but thinking it at least showed he had a degree of control over the situation.

“Perhaps.”

“If you’re not… one of them, why are you here?” Scott asked. He knew he wasn’t being as polite as he should be, but there was something about Logan that was getting under his skin. He was sure his eyes were flashing more than normal, and his chest felt a little tight. It was normally times like this when Hank would suggest he run some training sims in the Danger Room. He wished he could do that now, it would at least ease some of the tension building round his shoulders.

“I’m a mutant,” Logan answered, as though that was a response enough. He stretched, tapping his fingers against the wall of the cave, and then stood up a little straighter and cleared his throat. “I’m a mutant, and humans have made it pretty clear they don’t care about us. I heal. Nothing that I do will end it, so I live, and way I see it it’s better to have regular food and stuff to do than face an eternity of going to bed hungry.”

“Is it really that simple for you? You work for - for whoever this is, because it can’t-”

“Can’t what?”

“It can’t just be…” Scott sighed, cleared his throat. “My mum used to tell me stories about the Seelie Court. Proud but good beings that helped humans as long as we treated them with respect. I can’t remember much. But those were stories for children, there’s no way that’s what happened here.”

“Well, you’re right about that.” Logan picked at his teeth with the tip of his claw. “The Seelie Court are a bunch of naive fools, too concerned with their own politics to notice the growing influence of their enemies. Least, that’s what the boss says, and I don’t really care either way. No, summer boy, you’re not with the Seelie Court. That’s all skipping and daffodils and mischief. Do you know where you are?”

Scott hesitated, trying to remember, half-known stories that had been taken away by Sinister’s experiments, and the Professor helping him focus, and the nightmares he’d endured with Winters, layer after layer stealing his mother’s words from him. But he remembered a little, remembered who she had told him to avoid at any cost. He cleared his throat, swallowed, and then spoke.  
“I’m with the Unseelie Court, aren’t I?”

Logan smirked in response, and nodded.


End file.
